Now that Alex had become a captain, he regarded Morrison from a slightly different point of view. Not with condescension, but with a certain smiling indulgence. The way a gray-haired father might regard his young son’s academic feats in college.
“Captain?”
“I’m listening, Xang.”
“Who is to perform the entry into the channel?”
“You—go ahead, Morrison.”
“Thank you.”
There was a momentary pause. And then Xang asked:
“What’s it like—being a captain?”
“It’s a very good feeling, Morrison. You’ve never been in charge of a ship?”
“Only back at the academy. But that was an ancient Heron, with no crew. Just me and the instructor.”
“Same here. Seems like retired Herons are used for training everywhere you go.”
“Back at Serengeti, we also had a Flamingo.”
“Not bad,” said Alex, sincerely impressed. And so they chatted away the hour. Ships came and went. A magnificent and monstrous Tai’i cruiser crawled out of the channel. It looked like a rough-hewn asteroid, its surface enveloped in blood-red flame. The cruiser was making its usual patrol rounds, and a small battleship escorted it through Imperial territory. The giant cruiser of a once-great civilization floated on among the stars as if not even noticing the tiny convoy ship, which could destroy it with one blast.
All is vanity among the stars.
The ancient Tai’i civilization, dying from its strange internal problems, clutching desperately at the last dozen stars left to it, still patrolled the ancient borders of its former realm. As if the Tai’i didn’t realize that their once-mighty ships wouldn’t survive any serious skirmish these days, and that they owed the very existence of their kingdom to the mercy of the races they once ruled… .
Alex transmitted a full report of the recent incident to the pilot’s union, sending a copy to the Imperial administration and the government of Quicksilver Pit. Generalov had done a great job preparing the report, carefully detailing all the potential consequences of the collision, briefly noting the shocking negligence of the channel’s guard stations, and hinting at the possibility of a premeditated act of sabotage. The only thing Alex had to add was an “unofficial and off-the-record opinion” that the root of the trouble should be looked for in the commercial rivalry of competing tourist firms.
Then they downloaded the latest news from the station. There turned out to be nothing exciting, except, perhaps, the contents of the society pages. The gala celebration of the Emperor’s seventh birthday. A tired child, blinking sleepily, sat on the high throne, the actual seat of power that his ancestors had used to rule the Empire many generations ago. The child was receiving countless greetings from various ambassadors—and sometimes the representatives of the ambassadors—from various colonial worlds and alien races. Only the Zzygou, following their own peculiar customs, had sent the highest-ranking dignitaries and potentates to the official ceremony.
All is vanity among the stars. All but traditions.
Soon it was their turn to make another hyper-jump. And Morrison, expertly performing the graceful “Ionesco Loop,” ran the ship into the mouth of the channel. Their route now lay toward New Ukraine.
“Take a break, Morrison,” Alex suggested.
“Is that an order, sir?” the co-pilot rejoined quickly. The murky grayness of the channel flowed around the ship. This was a short jump—two hours and forty-three minutes.
“You’re not tired?” asked Alex simply.
Morrison laughed.
“I’ve just spent two weeks sitting on a planet, Captain. Can you imagine? No piloting. And broke, besides. Couldn’t even rent a glider.”
“Very well, Xang. Happy piloting!”
“Thank you, sir,” said the co-pilot with deep gratitude. “Alex … I won’t forget your kindness.”
Alex left the control system. Detached himself from the pilot’s chair, glanced briefly at the screens, and left the bridge.
The first thing that attracted his attention was the sound of laughter.
From the recreation lounge. Many happy voices joining in a merry uproar. He immediately recognized Kim’s bright peals of laughter, the high tiny voices of the Zzygou, and the deep throaty voice of … Janet!
Alex quickened his pace, cursing his own indecisiveness. He should have ordered Janet never to appear in the common modules while the Zzygou were there. He should have warned C-the-Third that sudden aggression from Janet might be expected… .
He stopped at the entrance to the recreation lounge.
“We greet you, Captain!” the Zzygou sang out, though they didn’t seem to have been looking in his direction. “We thank you for the hyper-jump and for the second hyper-jump as well!”
No … There didn’t seem to be any trouble.
Kim was sitting next to the Zzygou, and Alex had to agree with Janet’s recent suspicions. The human and the adult Zzygou did look very similar. Even their clothes were alike—a dark-navy skirt suit on Kim and almost the same on the two aliens, though theirs were lace-decorated and a little lighter in color. If it weren’t for the Zzygou’s strange way of talking, no one could ever tell that they were a completely different life form.
Janet, with a rather placid smile on her face, was at the bar, mixing some cocktails. Generalov, lounging with a small glass of whiskey, greeted the captain’s arrival with a good-natured wave of his hand. And Paul, whose glass of wine was still untouched, gave a shy nod. C-the-Third smiled affably as he leaned against the wall behind the Zzygou. He seemed to be quite favorably impressed by the crew Alex had hired.
“And then we got very surprise-ed!” said one of the Zzygou brightly, moving the conversation along.
“We, I got very surprise-ed,” the other one intoned. “A smell? What smell is? Molecule movement in air?”
All right … then the second Zzygou had actually been the one who witnessed what was being described. They were not the same age. They had just lived together for a long time, and their appearance had synchronized.
Alex sat down at the table, opposite the Zzygou. Gave Kim a little wink. The girl replied with a barely noticeable but rather inviting smile.
“Would you like a cocktail, Captain?” asked Janet cheerily.
“Yes please, but not too strong.”
“Very well, Captain.” Janet reached for another cocktail glass.
“We were shock-ted!” pronounced the Zzygou. “How can molecule be offensive? They don’t harming, but offending?”
“Yeah, sometimes it might be very convenient to be unable to smell,” remarked Paul. “When I was a scout, we took long hikes in the woods for three or four days in a row. And if there happened to be no brook nearby, the tent in the evening got quite odorific …”
“How can the scent of a healthy young body be unpleasant?” asked Generalov with a dramatic flair.
“I don’t know about healthy young bodies,” Lourier countered, “but the scent of nice dirty socks …”
The Zzygou giggled, indicating to the others that they got the gist of the joke.
“And we, I suggest-ed a solution,” sang out the second Zzygou. “Spacesuit. Tight spacesuit. No molecule can escaping!”
“And then we made a fix,” the other one continued. “It’s painful … Ouch! But no smell at all. But going to the toilet very-very often, even every day!”
“Cocktails?” Janet came up to the table with a tray in her hands.
“We thank you, servant …” the Zzygou sang out. Alex held his breath. Janet had already been bending over backwards for them… .
“Oops!” The Zzygou got up from their chairs, slightly bowing their heads. “We remember! Offensive word, causing pain … We mean ‘thank you, male or female friend!’”
“‘Friend’ will do,” Janet answered calmly.
“We thank you, friend!”
Alex also reached for a glass. Took a hurried sip, still watching Janet’s reac
tions. What if she had mixed in some poison?
But Janet took up a cocktail glass herself.
The drink was excellent, though it had a slightly unusual taste—lemon and anise, with just a hint of mint and honey, very refreshing. And it was no stronger than forty proof. Little colored ice cubes, made with slightly magnetized water, swirled around gracefully in the tall glasses. They reminded Alex of his virtual image of the ship.
“Alcohol wonderfully!” the Zzzygou declared, having taken a few sips. “We did not know taking alcohol internally. We knew humanity was a great race for invented alcohol. But it is still hard for us to drink a lot.”
“Not to worry,” said C-the-Third, joining the conversation. “Humans also didn’t adapt right away to drinking alcohol. There was even a time when it used to cause unpleasant aftereffects. Some radical naturals, who totally reject any kind of genetic engineering, still have a natural limit to their alcohol intake …”
Alex, utterly confused at this point, sat watching what was going on around him. It was a nice friendly get-together, as though the passengers and the crew had been good friends for a long time. Janet was a wonderful hostess, making hot cheese sandwiches for the Zzygou and all manner of snacks for the crew, while also refilling everyone’s drinks and keeping up the conversation. Kim and the Zzygou sitting closest to her were discussing the cut of their suits and the peculiarities of fashion in the Zzygou Swarm. The Zzygou had already produced a portable computer, quite human in its design, and was showing Kim some pictures.
Only Generalov’s tone of voice, when he addressed himself to C-the-Third, had a hint of spiteful irony. But Alex wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it.
Trouble began a quarter of an hour later. And, of course, Janet was the one to start it. With a perfectly innocuous, or so it seemed, friendly phrase:
“It is wonderful that the Zzygou race became a human ally from the very first contact …”
The Zzygou who sat chatting with Kim had no reaction to this whatsoever. But her companion chirped happily:
“No! No from the very first contact! We were first deeply offend-ed by the Empire. Your appearance, your behavior, and your morals are all offen-sive! We prepare-ed for big war.”
“Really?” rejoined Janet in a honey-sweet mellow tone. “And I was sure that was all an Ebenian extremist lie …”
“We prepare-ed, prepare-ed!” the alien chirped on. “But later we rejecting all the violent ways. The human race will meet its own natural end. Humanity are way too aggres-sive to reject expansion. You are also too fond of biological modeling for preserve unity. When the Empire finally falls apart in hundreds of independent planets, it will be conquer-ed by other race-es. Then we take our slice of cake! A large, very large slice!”
The pealing laughter of the Zzygou sounded especially odd in the silence that abruptly froze the air in the recreation lounge. The Zzygou smiled for another second or two. Then her face went ashen. The other alien, who had been caught up in telling Kim all the super-secret details of the Great Zzygou sacred fertilization ritual, stopped in mid-sentence. Looked at her companion. Touched the panel of the portable computer, folding the image. Then quietly said:
“We ask forgiving.”
“We ask forgiving,” sang out the Zzygou who had been chatting with Janet. The alien’s face had lost all color.
“We overestimate-ed ability drinking ethanol,” sang the two Zzygou in complete unison. “We start-ed joking, but our joking are somewhat strange and offen-sive to humans. We ask forgiving, we ask forgiving …”
They got up and backed out of the recreation lounge.
“Everything’s all right, sisters.” The tone of C-the-Third’s voice gave away his deep doubt in what he was saying. “Happens to everyone. We understand jokes.”
“Of course we do!” agreed Janet, smiling brightly.
“Sey-Zo!” said Kim in surprise. “But why does the cut for the larvae-laying have to be triangular?”
The question was left hanging in the air—the Zzygou left the would-be wonderful party.
Lourier shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of wine. Said, not looking at anyone:
“A slice of cake, eh? Big enough to choke on …”
“Let’s not talk about this,” retorted C-the-Third. “Most likely, it was really just an unfortunate joke.”
“Yeah, right …” said Janet, still smiling, taking a sip of her cocktail. “They just honestly admitted their opinion about us humans.”
“Why?” the clone responded. “Forgive me, but that would be very odd. I think they were joking. I prefer to think it was a joke.”
“As you wish.” Janet got up. “Well, I better be off. Have some reading to do.”
Alex caught up with her at the door to her quarters. Took her arm to stop her.
“Janet …”
“Yes, Captain?” The black woman smiled.
“What did you mix into the Zzygou’s cocktails?”
“Captain, I simply made a drink for everyone. I added no chemicals at all.”
“Then let me ask you another way. Janet, what could have caused such frankness on the part of the aliens?”
The woman’s face turned thoughtful.
“Hard to say, Captain … Back on Eben, there was a rumor that the Zzygou race poorly handles the natural alkaloids in anise. It is reputed to have an un-inhibiting effect, similar to that of truth serum. The Zzygou apparently lose neither their sanity nor their will, but become capable of blurting out anything. Doesn’t that just sound like a ridiculous urban legend? Everyone knows Eben is populated entirely by psychos.”
“Janet …” said Alex, feeling her pain, “why do this?”
“To make you see who you’re dealing with,” replied Janet seriously. “Their adorable girl-child looks are just an evolutionary fluke, combined with the ability to change several outward appearance parameters. But they are not even mammals, Captain! They are warm-blooded insects!”
“That’s a crude analogy.”
“In any case, they are biologically much closer to beetles and roaches than to us.”
“Not so. They are just as far from humans as they are from earthly insects.”
“Those little bulges you see underneath their blouses, Captain, aren’t breasts, but a rudimentary third pair of limbs. They feed their young by regurgitating partially digested food.”
“Nevertheless, they have red blood and almost-human lungs and hearts …”
“Six-chambered hearts!”
“They couldn’t have two-chambered hearts?” Alex felt that Janet was about to escape into her cabin, so he talked faster:
“Let’s just drop this whole argument. The Zzygou are neither roaches, nor humans. They are alien beings from the Zzygou race. And no, they don’t feel any great attachment to us, but why would they? We are a young and energetic race, taking over one planet after another. Let them have their illusions, as long as there’s no war!”
“Agreed.” Janet nodded. “Let me go, Alex.”
“Don’t set up any more provocations like that, Janet. Please. We don’t need any scandals, or complaints to the management, or conflicts with the Zzygou and C-the-Third.”
“You’ve burned our ships, which wouldn’t dare open fire at humans. You’ve covered our planet with a power shield as if it were a leper colony. You’ve brainwashed those you left alive. And still it’s not enough for you. Now you’re kissing up to the Others. And they can’t wait to see us all enslaved!”
Janet freed her arm with a strong invisible movement. Alex thought of the full military training she had gone through on Eben.
“I didn’t burn any of your ships. I never messed with your mind, sister-spesh!”
“You are no better than those who did!”
The door closed behind her. Alex barely suppressed the impulse to slam his fist into the plastic.
What could he do? Cajole, beg, appeal to reason?
All that was useless, when a program put into a spesh
’s mind was activated. Alex went into his own cabin, stood still for a while, his hands locked together in helpless wrath.
Then, obeying a blind impulse, he unbuttoned his shirt to look at the Demon. The little devil didn’t seem even remotely angry. Its features looked sad and reproachful.
“It’s just as hard for me!” Alex cried out. The Demon stared back with deep doubt in its eyes.
“Damn it all …” Alex turned to his terminal. “Computer, establish a secret watch over the cabin of Janet Ruello. Captain’s access.”
The screen unfolded and lit up.
The black woman was lying on the bed. Her body was quaking with sobs. Her hands were clutching and crushing her pillow.
Damn Eben, damn their crazy church of the Angry God, damn the genetic engineers who programmed Janet to hate the Others!
Alex rushed out of his cabin.
“Open! Captain’s orders.”
The blocked door beeped in protest, and he walked into Janet’s quarters. Nothing had changed in the last three seconds. She was still sobbing into her pillow.
Janet’s quarters, however, did surprise Alex. He had thought Janet had practically no personal belongings, but she had managed to completely transform the drab standard surroundings. Over the bed hung a crucifix. Christ was portrayed according to the Ebenian custom—having freed one of his hands and shaking a tight fist. On the floor near the bed lay a small but plush rug of multi-colored threads. There was an open mirror-case set of expensive makeup on the nightstand. There were also four framed pictures of smiling babies: two dark-complexioned boys and two little girls, one black and the other white. And numerous other tiny trinkets that seemed utterly useless but completely changed the feel of the place.
“Janet …”
She didn’t even lift her head.
“Come on.” Alex sat down next to her, putting his hand on her quivering shoulder. “I understand what you’re feeling. And I don’t consider your position completely wrong. But we all must fulfill our life’s duty …”
“Then why do you hate us so much?” Janet whispered. “So much more than you hate the Others … All we wanted was to make everyone happy!”